


Shapes, and Their Influence

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Magic, Pining, Royal Court, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: So she probably shouldn't have been practicing while she was in Dianor, where the king had a deep distrust and dislike of all mages after the death of his son. And okay, maybe it had also been a bad idea to be advertising the fact that she was practicing, except there were so many people who needed magic in their lives.Not even the big flashy, showy magic that she was better at, but the kind that helped with conception, with healing, with repairing things. And okay, so maybe helping that one duke's wife who was known to be a bit of a gossip had also been a really bad idea, but Hazel had a bad habit of letting things get to her head, especially when there was good food and beautiful women involved.A sorceress in a spot of bother gets rescued by a queen.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Queen/Sorceress who infiltrates her kingdom as a cat
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Shapes, and Their Influence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lilith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilith/gifts).



Hazel had not meant for things to go as far as they did.

So she probably shouldn't have been practicing while she was in Dianor, where the king had a deep distrust and dislike of all mages after the death of his son. And okay, maybe it had also been a bad idea to be _advertising_ the fact that she was practicing, except there were so many people who needed magic in their lives. 

Not even the big flashy, showy magic that she was better at, but the kind that helped with conception, with healing, with repairing things. And _okay_ , so maybe helping that one duke's wife who was known to be a bit of a gossip had also been a really bad idea, but Hazel had a bad habit of letting things get to her head, especially when there was good food and beautiful women involved.

The dumbest thing she'd done - the single dumbest thing, and she would freely admit she shouldn't have done it - was that she'd refused the one noblewoman the love potion. She'd seen the way said noblewoman was looking at the son of the hostler, and the looks that the hostler's son had been giving the blacksmith's son, and, well... that wasn't something she wanted to get involved in.

Anyway, love potions were never a good idea.

But then there were soldiers hammering at her door, splintering the wood, and she was three stories up and had no way to get out. 

In her panic, she'd done The Spell. The spell her mentor had given her years ago, and said that it was only for emergencies. She could almost hear the old man's voice in her ears now, creaking like a tree in a gale.

"It'll give you what you need when you need it," he'd said, "but only use it when you have no other choice. It'll eat up all your magic, and that will take months and months to grow back."

She'd learned it dutifully - she'd been dutiful to the old codger, for all that he was daft as a scarecrow, since he'd taken her in and loved him in his befuddled, distracted way after her own parents had turned her out. And she'd never used it before, although it had crept up the back of her mind sometimes, when things were especially nerve wracking. 

But. Well. Now seemed to be the time. She couldn't think of anything else to do. 

She whispered the spell to herself, slowly, and it tasted like burnt copper and fresh berries on her tongue, slowing over her. There was a flash - but it might not have been a flash, it may have just been her brain compensating for everything changing. 

And then the room was bigger. The room was bigger, and she could smell _everything_ , hear everything. Her skin was itching all over, and she seemed _longer_ , somehow. She was full of energy, and even with the fear that had taken her over, there was an odd joy to it. She had jumped before she had time to think - her body had taken over, and now she was somehow outside, on the windowsill. She heard the loud, splintering crash of the door being broken down, but that didn't matter; none of it mattered, because she was running along the gutter, jumping to the next roof over, then climbing down from a lower windowsill. She slunk through an alley, close to the ground, and she heard more shouting.

She had _instincts_ now, and she didn't know what to do with them. It was a bit like being a passenger in a runaway carriage, and she clung to what she could and kept going. Some part of her body she'd never had before (a tail?) was lashing, and then she was running again, slipping under a fence, through someone's garden, through a knothole, into another alley. 

There was noise and light spilling out of a door by this alleyway, and a group of men sitting around talking. 

"Seems weird, to have the Queen _here_ ," said one of them. He had a gruff, gravely voice.

"We're the best tavern in the city," countered another man. He had a more musical, sweeter voice. "Of course she'd come here."

"We may be the best tavern in the city, but why would she come to a tavern to eat oysters and drink ale when she could be supping on peacock and fine wines?" The gruff voiced man asked. 

"Peacock isn't very good," said the musical voiced man.

There was a scent coming from the open door, something fishy and strong. The body was moving before she had a chance to stop it, because she had to get out of the city, she had to find someplace to figure out what it was that she was shaped like. 

But fish. Delicious, delicious fish. 

The place was full of people, and the noise was enough to make her press her ears flat to her skull (she could do that now?), weaving in and out. Their voices were all so loud that it was hard to understand what they were saying, and it all seemed to be filtered, making it hard to understand. 

She dodged and weaved amongst the sea of feet, like a moving forest, and that seemed to be second nature. It was easier to let the body do all the work, since it seemed to have it well in hand.

As it were.

There was a smell coming from far off on what must have been a table, and it had her salivating. Fishy and good, and she was stalking towards it before she had a chance to even catch up with her own thoughts. 

Jumping from the floor to the bench to the top of the table took no work at all, and some other instinct was telling her to keep low. Nobody would notice her, with all that noise. She navigated easily around the assembled cutlery, and brought her head down to one particular plate, which had oysters circled around the edges.

It was simpler to follow the body's cues. Her mind might have been shrieking about how much she'd never eaten oysters, but her stomach was growling at her, and it was simpler to just eat, right? 

Nobody would notice her. They were all focusing on... well, everything else. Whatever else was going on. None of that was important. There weren't any soldiers looking for her in this form, there weren't any other rivals (rivals must have been her brain translating whatever it was the body was thinking), it was just her and the delicious, briny oysters.

She put her face forward, and began to eat the first one.

* * * 

Hazel had eaten three oysters before someone grabbed her by the back of the neck and hoisted her up.

"Seems that we've got a thief, your majesty," intoned a deep, feminine voice.

Hazel struggled, trying to get free. She was being lifted by the scruff of the neck, and she hadn't ever had one before. She looked down at herself... and saw paws. 

_Am I a cat? Did my mentor's emergency spell just turn me into a cat? I'll summon his ghost and scratch his eyes out._ That wasn't a rational thought, but the rational part of her brain was still standing in that room, waiting for the soldiers to splinter down the door and send her into a dungeon where she'd never see the sun again. 

She glared up at the big, broad face looking down at her, and she felt her ears flatten and her lip curl. She hissed like a kettle, and there was a laugh from beside her.

"I don't think this criminal has much remorse," the woman intoned, and she gave Hazel a little shake.

"Well, they say that even a cat may look at a king. I suppose it would be the same for a queen." The voice beside the first woman was a little bit higher, and had a musical lilt to it. "Let me hold it."

"It may have fleas, your majesty, or some other kind of disease," said the woman holding Hazel. She shifted her hold, so that she was supporting Hazel's backside, and Hazel made an irritated noise. 

_This isn't dignified_ , Hazel thought deliriously. Not that she'd ever been particularly attached to her dignity, but... well. 

"I'd rather deal with some six legged bloodsuckers than the parasites that have been insinuating themselves all day," the other woman said, and then a pair of hands were around Hazel's middle, and she was being cradled against a very soft bosom, , all four legs splayed and her belly displayed for the room.

The body was telling her this was dangerous, that she needed to _run_ , to scratch out with her claws ( _I have claws now_ ), but no, then she might be dropped and even if she'd be fine in this body, she didn't want to get lost in that whole mess of legs and feet. 

"You are a thief," the person holding Hazel said, and a small hand was rubbing along her ears, over her forehead, scratching her eyebrows gently. Her eyes squinted shut in pleasure, and her chest started to rumble. _Is this purring? I think I'm purring._

"I'd keep your voice down about that, Lady," said the woman who had grabbed Hazel, as the Lady rubbed Hazel's belly with one small, soft hand. "They execute thieves here." 

The Lady wrinkled her nose. "We'll keep your secret," she said, looking into Hazel's eyes, and her own eyes were a deep, dark brown, like well turned soil. "I can't stand that sort of barbarism."

"Lady," the other woman said sharply, and the Lady sighed, scratching Hazel's chest in a way that would have been _much_ more appealing if she was still her proper shape.

"I'll share my dinner with you," she told Hazel, settling back on the bench and holding Hazel in her lap. "I've always been fond of oysters, and can't fault you for wanting some of your own." 

* * *

Hazel stayed in the Lady's lap, getting her ears scratched. She let the body take the lead on this one, kneading and letting her backside rise up, her eyes squeeze shut. She was fed more oysters, and the Lady didn't complain when Hazel's rough tongue rasped over the delicate tips of her fingers, or when Hazel's claws sank into her leg. 

At some point in time, a troupe of soldiers clattered in, and the Lady began to tense up. Hazel butted her head under the Lady's chin, one of her feet (paws?) digging into the woman's breast.

"Aren't you sweet," the Lady said, her voice low, and her fingers were gently scratching at the base of Hazel's tail now. 

Hazel purred louder, and tried to keep the hair at the base of her spine from lifting. She could hear the soldiers talking, and she wanted to _hide_.

"We looked _everywhere_ for that witch," said one of them, and Hazel was beginning to shake. The body didn't know how to deal with this terror, other than to sit there and shake. 

"I've had about enough," the Lady said to the woman who had grabbed Hazel before. She stood up, holding Hazel draped over one shoulder. 

"You barely touched your oysters," said the woman who had originally picked Hazel up. 

"They got eaten," said the Lady. The two of them were walking out now, and Hazel did her best not to bristle up as they passed by the soldiers at their table. The Lady made a soothing noise, and kept petting her, no doubt sensing the spike.

"By the _cat_ ," protested the other woman.

"But not wasted," the Lady said. Her heart was beating very fast, and Hazel nudged her own forehead against the woman's chin, and began to purr louder.

"Are you taking the cat with us to the embassy?" The other woman didn't sound scandalized, at least, as the two of them climbed into a carriage. It was plush, and smelled like old leather and the ghosts of perfumes. 

"Yes," said the Lady. 

The other woman snorted, but didn't say anything. Hazel could feel her disapproval from the opposite seat, and she purred louder. The Lady was already starting to smell like her, and that shouldn't have been so reassuring. That was all the body's doing, and she would have been annoyed about it, but it was easier right now, to sink into the comforting warmth and let the animal do the thinking.

* * *

The Lady brought Hazel into a big, ornate house. She set Hazel down on a broad, fluffy bed, and she shooed the other woman out. 

"I can undress myself for one night," the Lady said, and then it was just the two of them in the big room. 

Hazel tucked all four feet under herself, and pulled her tail up close to her body. She watched the Lady get dressed, and she wished she was human again, to run her fingers along all of that lovely, smooth skin. The body didn't care about any of that - the body was warm and full, sitting on a soft bed. The body was still purring, and her eyes kept slipping shut. 

_Is this perverse?_ Hazel's tail twitched, as she admired the smooth curve of a shoulder, the rounded outline of a breast as the lady pulled a nightgown up over her head. _I'm not human right now, am I? She wouldn't do this if I was human._ She shook her head so hard that her ears rattled. _I'm still human. I'm not human shaped, but I'm still human._

"I'm glad I got to meet _you_ , at least," the Lady said, and she brought the candle to the bedside table, and then she was climbing into the bed, stretching out with her toes pointed towards the foot of the bed. "So I can have some nice company."

_What kind of woman brings a street cat back to her rooms?_ Hazel wondered, as the Lady petted her, good, firm strokes from between her ears to the base of her tail. _For all she knows, I belonged to the tavern keeper._

The Lady was staring pensively off to the middle distance as she scratched Hazel under the chin. Hazel didn't mean to fall asleep, really, but... well, the bed was softer than anything she'd slept on since she'd left her parent's house, and the Lady was warm and smelled nice, and she was running on nerves and oysters at this point, so was it any wonder?

_At least I'm not in a dungeon_ , she thought, and then she was asleep, still being stroked by the Lady. 

Hazel was woken up when she was lifted up again. She blinked, and there was the momentary shock of _why am I being lifted, how am I being lifted?_ before the events of the evening before came crashing back on her head. She was trembling, as she was slung over the Lady's shoulder, and she barely noticed what was going on until she was dropped into a bag. 

"You're taking the cat?" The woman hissed, as Hazel was being lifted up, and put into... a bag? She was surrounded by soft fabric that smelled nice, like the Lady, and in theory she'd be getting away from the soldiers, which was the important part, right? 

The body seemed comfortable enough, and she fell asleep again, as the bag was lifted up.

* * *

Hazel woke up on a boat. She could hear the water moving, and there was a gentle back and forth motion underfoot. She poked her head out from inside of the cloth bag, and found herself in a small cabin, a porthole letting in a bright shaft of light. 

"You're finally up, it seems," said the Lady, and Hazel felt herself begin to purr already. 

_You barely know the woman_ , she scolded herself, but she still jumped up onto the woman's lap, butting her head under the Lady's chin. 

"Oh, puss," the Lady said, and she sighed.

Hazel began to purr louder, rubbing her chin against the Lady's jaw.

"I know it was necessary to go," she said, and she scratched at the base of Hazel's tail, "but I hate it there."

Hazel wanted to say something, but. Well. What was there to say? 

_If I were still human, I'd kiss you_ , she thought, and that was a bit of a shock. A strange thought to have, to be sure, but what would be a normal one, in a situation like this? 

The Lady began to pet along her body, ruffling her ears, then stopping at the tip of her tail. "They hate their magic users, even as they depend on them, they make deals with our enemies, and their king chews with his mouth open and wipes his fingers on his tunic." She sighed heavily, and she leaned back in her chair, lifting Hazel up to rest on her bosom, draped across like a scarf. 

Hazel kept purring, her eyes shut. _Who is this woman, anyway? I don't recognize her, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. Why would a lady talk to a sorceress, especially in the city?_ She was being petted again, and she kneaded at the woman's thigh, her tail twitching. 

"You're a nice cat," said the Lady. "I wanted some nice souvenirs. You and the books seem like a fair trade." She sighed, a baleful sound, and Hazel stood up, putting her front paws on the Lady's shoulder and rubbing her cheek against the Lady's. Her fur came away wet, and she nuzzled a little harder, then licked.

_Whoever she is, she's sad_ , thought Hazel.

The body thought she was warm, and the feel of her heart beating was familiar and comforting. The Lady smelled like her now, and Hazel was content to curl up and fall asleep on the silk of the Lady's lap.

* * *

They were on the boat for several days. 

The Lady shared her dinner with Hazel, and let her out to prowl around the rest of the ship. The sailors seemed to like her - something about good luck to see a cat on a ship. The body had some trouble navigating the moving ground, but no trouble at all finding the various small rodents hidden about the place. 

She didn't _want_ to eat them, but... well. 

Her mentor had warned her against shapeshifting in the past. He'd gone on a long tangent using metaphors, before eventually saying, _things want to fit their form_. When she was cat shaped, her mind was cat shaped. When she was human shaped, her mind was human shaped. 

Right now, she was trying to shove a human shaped mind into a cat shaped body, and she was beginning to worry that the human shaped bits were... eroding. If that was the right word. The right idea?

It was easier to slink around the bowels of the ship, killing mice and letting the sheer joy of physicality fill her like water in a glass. Easier to crawl into bed with the Lady (and _what_ was her name?) and be petted and scratched, easier to sink into the background and let the thinking parts of her sleep. 

At least until her magic came back. 

* * *

Hazel was taken to a palace by the ocean. At least, she assumed it was near the ocean. At night, when she slept on the Lady's pillow, she could sometimes hear the waves, and the wind smelled of salt when it ruffled her fur. 

It was easier to just fall into the body here, now that she was safe. The Lady was constantly fussing over her, carrying her, feeding her. Time went soft and sticky around the edges, like sugar on a humid day. A season went by, and Hazel slept in the Lady's bed, sat on the Lady's lap. She was fed, brushed, petted, and generally fussed over, and it was easy to let herself sink into the softness, the care.

When was the last time that she'd been loved like this? She didn't remember ever being held to a soft bosom and stroked, didn't remember someone being so delighted to see her each and every time. Sometimes it felt like it was too much to process at once, and she'd hide under the Lady's bed and retreat further and further into the body. Sometimes, her human mind came up for air, and the Lady would be there, stroking her, or Hazel would jump on the bed and the Lady would smile at her, and nothing else in the world mattered.

* * *

Hazel sat in the Lady's lap, and she listened to an argument, half asleep as the Lady's fingers worked through the thicker fur at her ruff.

"You're going to need to get married at _some point_ , your majesty," said the harried looking man, who smelled like ink and old paper. He was sitting at the table, drumming his fingers on the table. 

"I can name an heir," the Lady said, unperturbed. She scratched over the base of Hazel's tail, and Hazel's eyes rolled in ecstasy, kneading at the Lady's thigh with both paws. "I just haven't met anyone that I like yet."

"You could -" the man began.

"Humphrey," said the Lady, "I know you're going to suggest I throw another ball, and the answer is _no_. The weather mages are predicting a bad winter, and I don't want to drain the treasury with something so frivolous. Anyway, the whole time I'll be wishing I was back up in my own chambers with Puss here."

Hazel rolled onto her back, and she squinted up at the Lady, her chest rumbling with her own purring. The Lady's fingers were very clever, as they found all the good places that made Hazel wriggle with delight. 

"Can you at least introduce the cat to one of your potential suitors?" Humphrey sounded somewhere between exasperated and amused. It was probably an old argument. "The Princess of Palondia is supposed to be very fond of cats, and she is also very pretty."

"You're just thinking of that one fairy tale," the Lady accused Humphrey, and she lifted Hazel up. 

Hazel let herself be draped over the Lady's shoulder, purring in the Lady's ear and butting her head against her temple. 

Humphrey sighed, and there was the creak of the leather chair when he stood up. "I know that it's been hard, since your mother died," he said, and the Lady stiffened against Hazel, "but I want you to know, you are doing a very good job."

Hazel sighed, as the man's thick fingers scratched around her ears. She might not have been quite as fond of him as she was of the Lady, but he was nice enough. Sometimes he snuck her little bits of fish, and he always doled out pets like they cost him money. 

There was dampness against Hazel's side - there was water coming out of the Lady's face. 

_She's crying_ , supplied the human part of Hazel's mind, which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller every day. 

Hazel purred harder, and she licked the Lady's cheek. The Lady chuckled wetly, and rubbed a damp cheek against Hazel's back. 

There was the sound of a door closing very quietly, and the Lady sighed, a long, baleful sound. "I don't want to marry any of them," she told Hazel, and there was a stubbornness to her voice that made Hazel happy, her tail flicking. She even allowed the indignity of being held up by the armpits with her back legs dangling. 

Hazel made some kind of noise - not one that meant much of anything, but she knew the Lady liked the noises she made, and she liked the sound the Lady made when she was happy.

"You're a good kitty," the Lady said, and she kissed Hazel between the ears. "And I can promise you that I'll never love any of them _half_ as much as I love you." She set Hazel back in her lap, and she settled into the chair, picking up another stack of papers. 

* * *

"The king of Dianor brought you a gift," Humphrey said, some time later. 

Time was getting even fuzzier to Hazel. She hadn't been paying much attention to the way things were changing - sometimes she even forgot who she was, except that she loved the Lady with all her everything. 

Words got stranger, and farther away. They stopped mattering as much as the small, squeaking things that bothered the Lady. She slept curled up to the Lady in bed, she purred when the Lady stroked her, she sat in the Lady's lap during meetings. And none of that mattered at all, all that mattered was that the Lady was here, was petting her, was talking to her. 

"Of course he did," said the Lady, and she sounded very tired. 

"He _has_ been pushing his suite," said Humphrey. "It would be a great alliance for your kingdoms."

"I will not marry someone who has all those... ridiculous laws," said the Lady. "We both know that he'd start setting all of his laws in motion, and he has the superior army, and while my family is the one that has the land..." Whatever she had been saying petered out, as she kept stroking the cat. 

"You're right, of course," said Humphrey, and he sighed. 

"And he chews with his mouth open," said the Lady. "Which is, of course, the sin of sins." 

"Oh, of course," agreed Humphrey. "You are going to have to find _someone_ , eventually." 

"I don't have to," said the Lady. "I want whoever it is to be the right one. I'll know them when I meet them." 

"The perfect partner isn't going to just land in your lap one day," said Humphrey, as the Lady readjusted Hazel across her thighs. 

"Would that it were that easy," the Lady sighed, and she gave Hazel a good scratch under the chin. 

"The gift is nice," said Humphrey, and he was handing something over to the Lady, which meant that she wasn't petting Hazel anymore.

Hazel made a discontented noise, and she grabbed for the Lady's hand.

"I'll never get married, if Puss has anything to say about it," the Lady said, and she sounded amused. Hazel purred, her eyes half shut, and she rolled onto her back, to give the Lady better access to her belly. 

"Yes, well," said Humphrey.

"It is a pretty necklace, I suppose," said the Lady. She was picking the necklace up, squinting at it. It was dangling over Hazel, and the pendant swung enticingly. 

Hazel reached a paw up to bat at it, and then things got very... loud.

Hazel's magic, long dormant for months on end, had finally renewed. It had been largely forgotten, as the human parts of her slowly sloughed off to fit her cat shape. And now it was a bit like someone forcing a draft horse through a mouse hole, and then she was sitting there, without her fur, her limbs too long and clumsy, her skin too bare and shivering in the cold air.

Someone should have been screaming. This seemed like the sort of situation that warranted screaming. Instead, everything was very quiet. The Lady was staring into Hazel's eyes, and her face was very still, her eyes very wide. 

"Your Majesty," said Humphrey from the other side of the table, "what happened?"

"I believe that my cat was not originally a cat," the Lady said. "Unless someone magically switched her with this woman."

The Lady's clothes were very soft against Hazel's skin - it was _raw_ , after being insulated by the warm fur that had been _hers_. She shuddered, and she was teetering on the Lady's thighs.

The Lady pulled her closer, wrapped an arm around Hazel's middle, and Hazel cuddled in, the same way she had when she was a cat. Her head rested on the Lady's shoulder, and while she couldn't catch the specific notes of the Lady's scent, it was still there, comforting and familiar. 

She couldn't purr anymore, and that was distressing, and she was trying to _think_ , because now she was human shaped again, and it felt as if her soul was straining itself to fit in. 

"Lady," she said, and her voice croaked. It seemed to rumble in her chest like a purr. "Lady," she tried again, and that worked a little better. 

"Who are you?" The Lady's hands were holding on to Hazel's sides, and now Hazel was big enough that the Lady's hands didn't meet around her middle anymore. 

"I... am myself," said Hazel, because how else would she answer that? 

There was more silence. _Then_ the screaming started.

* * * 

Things were a bit of a blur after that. 

Hazel kept drifting in and out, except at one point someone was doing magic at her. She would have protested, but she had been put in clothes, and all that sensation against her skin was enough to make her whole body prickle. She clumsily drank from a glass of water, remembering how to make her fingers work, and she answered questions.

She heard the humans - the _people_ \- talking outside the door of the little room they were keeping her in. To their credit, it was a cosy enough cell, with a nice bed, a chamber pot, and a little table and chair for her to eat at. She sat at the table now, and she strained to her - her ears were still good enough that she could mostly understand through the thick wood of the door. 

"As far as we can tell, she's not an assassin," said the woman from the tavern, all those nights ago. She was some kind of mage, and her name was Marielle, from Hazel had picked up. 

"So who is she?" Humphrey sounded very tired, and Hazel wanted to rub against his ankles, which was probably unproductive, and would also be _weird_ now that she had no fur. 

"It seems like she was just in the right place at the right time," said Marielle. She also sounded very tired. 

"What are the chances that a foreign witch would _just so happen_ to find the tavern that our Queen was eating dinner in when she was in a foreign nation?" Humphrey sounded aggrieved. 

"Well," said Marielle, "if this was a situation involving lightning strikes, I would recommend that you stay out of fields, even on a clear day."

"Surely she has to have _some_ motive," said Humphrey. 

"You talked to her. I talked to her. She's clearly bewildered from being shape changed for so long, but she's only expressed worry about upsetting the Queen. She doesn't even want to go home."

"I wouldn't want to go back either, if she's actually from Dianor," said Humphrey, not quite under his breath.

Hazel made to snicker, but it came out more like a cat's hiss, which sounded _odd_ coming out of her human shaped mouth. 

There was silence on the other side of the door, and then the sound of the two humans (the two _other_ humans) walking off. 

* * *

Hazel couldn't sleep. She paced the small cell, and she pressed her face against the bars over the window, taking in deep, gasping breaths of the outside air. It smelled like the sea and like the cold wind, and she longed to roam it. 

She hadn't used to be like this, in her old body. It was slowly coming back to her, what she _had_ had been like. It was a bit like waking up from a dream, but she wasn't sure if being a cat had been the dream, or being a sorceress. She climbed back into the bed, her hands behind her head, and she stared at the ceiling.

* * *

She was visited by the Lady the next morning, and she didn't even bother to hide how happy she was, her whole face stretching out into an unfamiliar expression - she was smiling, and it felt almost threatening to show her teeth in happiness, and yet. 

"How are you?" The Lady was standing in the doorway, and she looked faintly nervous. When they were both human, Hazel was actually a little bit taller than she was. 

"I'm... well," said Hazel. "I missed you." Was that weird to say? When she was cat shaped, she'd rubbed against the Lady's ankles, rubbed her face all over the Lady's, pressed her own small body against the Lady's. As a human, even saying she cared seemed like... A Lot. 

"I'm sorry," said the Lady, and she looked genuinely sad. "How have you been settling in?"

"It's taken some getting used to," said Hazel. 

"Humphrey said that your name is Hazel?" The Lady took another step into the cell. There was the familiar, faint scent of her, and Hazel tried not to let herself get too excited by it, tried not to perk up even more.

"Yes," said Hazel, and then she laughed, self conscious. "I.. do not remember your name."

"I suppose I've never told it to you," said the Lady. "I don't make a habit of introducing myself to my cats." She paused. "You're not my cat anymore, are you?"

"I don't know," Hazel said, because she wasn't exactly sure how to answer that question. 

"Is it?" The Lady looked intrigued. "My name is Ludmilla," she added. 

"It's very nice to meet you, Ludmilla," said Hazel. "As a person," she added. "A human shaped person."

That startled an ugly honk of laughter out of the Lady - out of Ludmilla - and that got Hazel laughing as well. It seemed to fill the small room, and - at least momentarily - scare off the uneasiness that had been nibbling at Hazel's sides.

* * *

Hazel was allowed to roam around the castle. Ludmilla - who Hazel still referred to as "the Lady" in her head, because some things were hard to let go of - checked in on her occasionally. It was busy work, running a kingdom, and Hazel knew she was a lot more distracting, now that she couldn't slink in and out.

It was _surreal_ , seeing all these rooms she knew so well from a different perspective. The fact that she had been the Queen's little cat was not common knowledge, apparently. Admittedly, how would that conversation even go?

The main thing that Hazel was having trouble with was sleep. She was used to sleeping beside the Lady, on the big bed, or dozing off in sunbeams, or finding some other nice, private place to drift off. Lying on her bed, when the night air smelled so sweet (muted, but sweet) right out the window was like torture, and lying there _alone_ made it worse. She ended up trying to curl up with a spine that didn't curl, her face squished into a pillow. 

"You look tired," said Ludmilla, two weeks after Hazel had been human shaped again. 

"I'm sorry," Hazel said, stifling a yawn behind one hand. She stared down at the plate in front of her, then picked up a fork. She was still getting used to using her fingers again. 

"Don't be," said Ludmilla. "Have you not been sleeping?"

"No," said Hazel, and maybe she should have been more coy about it, since the Queen had enough things to worry about. 

But still. 

"Why not?" Ludmilla took a sip of water from the cup beside her plate, and Hazel tried not to watch the line of her throat as she swallowed.

"I'm not used to sleeping alone," Hazel said, which was true, but it was a _lot_ to say while staring straight into Ludmilla's eyes, as the two of them sat in the Queen's private suite, leaning over a small table together.

It really was lucky Ludmilla trusted Hazel at all, considering... well. It was also very odd, to be sitting at a table that would collapse under her weight when before she could have danced on it with all four feet. 

"I confess, I had gotten used to having company," said Ludmilla, and she looked down at her hands. Her cheeks were turning pink, and Hazel wanted to press her hand against the soft skin, to see how warm it was. She'd patted the Lady on the face when she was a cat, and it had gone over well.

Probably not so much, presently. 

"I'm sorry," said Hazel, and she wasn't sure what it was she was sorry for. "If it helps any, I didn't mean to -"

"I know," Ludmilla interrupted, cutting through what would probably be another stream of anxious babble. "I know that you didn't..." She trailed off, looked at her hands, then back at Hazel. "Would you like to keep me company tonight?"

Hazel blinked. _Am I being propositioned? Do queens proposition?_ "Um," she said. "Sure. I'd like that. It... it sounds nice."

Ludmilla smiled at Hazel, and it was Hazel's turn to blush and look down at the table in front of her. "I'm glad," Ludmilla said, and her tone was the same one she'd used when she stroked Hazel the cat's ears. 

_I think I'm in love with her_ , Hazel thought, and it was a bit like being hit in the back of the head with a rock. _How can I be in love with her?_ She looked over at Ludmilla, who was watching a bird that had landed on the windowsill. The afternoon light was gilding the line of her face golden, like a painting of a saint. _How can I not be in love with her?_

"Are you alright?" Ludmilla shot Hazel a concerned look, and Hazel shook her head. It still felt weird to do that without her ears rattling. 

"Yes, sorry," said Hazel. She gave what she hoped was a perfectly serviceable, normal smile, even though her instincts were telling her not to bare her teeth.

"Still getting used to..." Ludmilla made a vague hand gesture. Her fingers were very long and very slender, and Hazel tried not to stare at them too hard. "Something like that," she said, her mouth dry.

"A good night's sleep should help," Ludmilla said, her tone firm. She yawned, and looked faintly sheepish. "I'm afraid I'm in the same boat."

"Well," said Hazel, and her voice, miraculously, did _not_ come out as an awkward squeak, "we shall see."

"Indeed we shall," said Ludmilla, and she gave Hazel a long, thoughtful look. 

* * *

The bed was much smaller, when she was this size. She lay in it, wearing the nightgown that had a bit too much lace on it to be comfortable (what was even the _point_ of lace, had she worn it when she was human the last time?) and tried not to think about how close Ludmilla was. 

It was still unbelievably large, especially compared to Hazel's old bed, back across the sea. There was still enough room to fit an unsheathed sword between the two of them, and why was Hazel thinking of _that_ , it wasn't like they were in some old song), and she tried not to watch as Ludmilla climbed into bed beside her, then leaned over to blow out the candle.

"I missed you," Ludmilla said, when the two of them were lying in the darkness together. There was a familiarity to it, even in different bodies. 

"I didn't go anywhere," said Hazel. "I mean. I did. But." She paused. "I'm sorry I'm not... who I was before. Like I was before."

Ludmilla's hand crept out in the darkness, towards Hazel's. Hazel's hearing was still better than a human's (a normal human's - she needed to think of herself as human), and the rustle of the bedclothes was like a gale in a storm.

Or maybe she was just listening very intently, and was entirely too anxious. 

Hazel's fingers brushed against Ludmilla's, and then Ludmilla's fingers closed around hers. "What was it like?" She didn't sound like a queen then, didn't even sound like the Lady. She sounded like the girl who had cried into a cat's fur, all alone in the darkness of her room. 

"It was..." Hazel tried to find the words, as her thumb stroked over the back of Ludmilla's hand. "Everything was always happening immediately. It wasn't planned, there wasn't even much... memory. I had bits of my own memory, but so much of it was a long time ago."

"Did you change other times?" Ludmilla laced their fingers together, and she scooted closer, more rustling of the bedclothes. "Was that... how have you done magic like that before?"

"Not like that, no," said Hazel. They were thigh to thigh now, and Ludmilla's leg was very warm against hers, even through the thick fabric of the nightgown, and the prickly lace. 

"But you did other magic?" Ludmilla sighed, and now Hazel was thinking of the way her chest must have swelled when she did that, and oh, that was _definitely_ a road to go down, but maybe not when she was in bed with the other woman.

She'd made herself come four times in a row, once she'd had privacy and more or less the use of her fingers. "Yes," said Hazel. "I've been doing magic for... a very long time."

"Would you want to stay here, as a magic user?" Ludmilla said it all in a rush, and she was grasping Hazel's hand a little tighter. "As the court's sorceress, I suppose."

"That wouldn't go over well with your neighbor," Hazel said. The queen's pulse was hammering against her, a steady tick-tick-tick. Her own heart seemed to be beating just as hard, pounding in her ears. 

"I can't be fussed," said Ludmilla. "Do you miss being a cat?"

"I miss how simple things were," said Hazel. "I... felt what I felt, and I wanted what I wanted. That was all that mattered. The world was big and some of it wanted to eat me, and I wanted to eat some of it."

"That sounds remarkably straightforward," Ludmilla agreed, then; "what do you want?"

Hazel wasn't thinking. Or maybe she was thinking, but she was thinking with her old body (her new-old body?) and not her actual human brain. She got up on one elbow, and she kissed Ludmilla flat on the mouth.

Then she pulled back, her heart beating desperately in her ears, because _she had kissed the Lady_ , and okay, she'd done that as a cat but it was much different now that -

Hazel's desperate, terrified thoughts came to a screeching halt when Ludmilla's mouth pressed against her own, and Ludmilla's hand was in her hair. Her lips were very gentle against Hazel's own, and her breath was very warm on Hazel's cheek. When she pulled back, Hazel could just make out the shape of Ludmilla's profile. 

"Your eyes still glow in the dark, did you know that?" Ludmilla thumbed Hazel's cheekbone, and the tip of one finger traced over the edge of Hazel's lips. "Like rubies."

"I didn't know that," Hazel said. 

"Not really... glow," Ludmilla added, her tone thoughtful. "They reflect the light." 

"Oh," Hazel said, and she was still shaking. 

“You’ll always have a place here,” Ludmilla said, and there was a fervency to the words that made Hazel’s head spin. “Will you stay with me?”

Hazel kept her eyes on Ludmilla, on the Lady who she loved with all of her heart, and she gave an abrupt nod. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll stay. I… yes. However you want me.” A pause. “Except as a cat,” she added, and that brought on a chuckle from Ludmilla, a puff of warm air across Hazel’s cheek. 

“I’ll miss the cat,” said Ludmilla, “but… I look forward to getting to know the woman.” 

Another kiss, and Hazel let herself drown in it, as warm as any magic wrapping around her.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Playing Possum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28671720) by [PrairieDawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn)




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